Jesus Christ, my head hurts. I wake up in an unfamiliar bed, in what looks like a hotel room. I look around, trying to get my bearings, and find Yelena next to me in the bed. We’re both fully clothed, but I feel sort of a thrill at the realization that we slept so close together. She stirs awake and I clutch my head as she yawns.
“Hungover?” I hear Yelena tease me and groan. “Such a baby! You should be feeling great!” She laughs loudly, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
“I’m only 5 years younger than you,” I grumble, jealous of her high spirits.
“10 if you count the five I missed,” She points out.
“I don’t.”
“Plus, I’m Russian.” Yelena gets out of the bed and throws the curtains open. Light streams in and pierces my retinas.
“Jesus, Fuck!” I hide under the blankets.
“And you call yourself a Widow,” Yelena scoffs judgmentally.
“Oh, I’m sorry, does your definition of a Widow include being impervious to alcohol? Because you might be the only one if that’s the case.” That earns me a laugh.
“That is a good one!” She throws the covers off of me.”But if you want to be my partner you need to get better at drinking.”
“Noted.” I push through the pain, like I was taught to, and she gives me an approving nod when we’re both freshened up for the day.
“Let’s go meet the boss.” She leads me to the elevator, her dogtooth coat swishing around her ankles. Damn, she’s got style. I pull my black puff coat tighter around my shoulders, suddenly aware of my function over form tendencies with clothes. We walk silently for much longer than I’d like to in this freezing weather. Thankfully, the cold is helping with the hangover pounding its way through my skull. Suddenly, Yelena turns into an alley, and makes her way up a fire escape. I follow, wondering why we’re scaling an apartment building to meet up with her boss, but I don’t question it. We finally make it up to the top floor, and I watch as Yelena taps on the glass of a bedroom window. Curtains swing open and then swiftly shut again. After a minute, the window slides open silently, and Yelena clambers in, me following quickly.
“You do know it’s Christmas?” An annoyed voice says as my feet hit the carpet. “My kids are waiting to open their presents. Who the hell is this, Ms. Belova?” The window slides shut.
“Hello, Val! I want to bring in an associate to help me,” Yelena says with a little bit of humor in her voice, and the woman who's home we’ve just intruded gives me a studious look.
“I know this one.” She grabs a tablet from a dresser and taps on it for a moment. “Y/n Y/l/n. The last widow you freed before the blip. Heightened sensitivities, intuitive in the field, high success rate. Do you think she has the guts?” She’s asking Yelena, but I feel myself wanting to answer. I don’t.
“I know she was trained to.”
“You want to give up traveling? I see that’s all you’ve been doing in the blip,” Her cold gaze pierces through me. I’m unfazed.
“Yeah.” I mean it.
“Alright, she's temporarily your responsibility. Prove yourself.” She dismisses us, sliding the window back up. “I'll contact you when I get your next assignment. Get out.” I follow Yelena back out onto the fire escape, and when we get back to the ground she grins at me before taking off. I attempt to keep up, but I’m out of practice, and I can’t quite stay with her. We eventually make our way to a little dive in Brooklyn that’s open today and have something to eat. As I scarf down my meal, it's like I can feel life rushing back into my body. When I feel human again, I finally speak up.
“Okay, tell me. Why didn’t you kill Barton?”
“Natasha.”
“Your sister?”
“Yes,” Her tone suggests she doesn’t want to elaborate, so I don’t push it.
“What about the girl?” I ask, thinking about the pretty face I met yesterday.
“Kate Bishop? Ha! She wants to be an Avenger. Stupid.” Yelena grabs her fork. “And she has no cutlery! None, what a weirdo.”
“But you like her.” I can tell. Her voice pitched up slightly when she said her name.
“She’s funny!” Yelena defends, as if liking someone is something she should be ashamed of. I shake my head.
“I don’t know. She’s cute though,” I feel my heart rate increase nervously. When Yelena doesn’t respond, I clear my throat. “Speaking of cute, your clothes are amazing.”
“I know! And everything has hidden pockets! For weapons, obviously.” She shows me the inside of her coat, the lining hiding several pockets.
“I’m jealous. That’s a great coat,” I admit. We’re quiet for a moment, neither of us sure where to go with the conversation.
“You are attracted to women, yes?” She asks so bluntly, I almost choke on my drink.
“Uh, yes. I’m a lesbian.” I’m only slightly hoping she says something along the lines of ‘me too, let’s fuck.’ There's another awkward beat before either of us says anything though.
“I do not do romantic relationships,” she states. Okay? Is it too much too soon to ask if she does other things? She saves me from asking. “I have been attracted to women.”
“Okay, cool.”
“And Kate Bishop is very cute,” she mumbles. I knew it! I look down and smile, hoping she doesn’t catch me. We pay for our food and head back into the freezing December air.
“So, if you're in a hotel here, where do you usually live?” I ask, wondering if I’ll be going with her or how this partner thing is going to work.
“Ohio,” she says, and I laugh. She looks at me, confused.
“Wait, you’re serious?”
“The best part of my life was in Ohio,” she shrugs.
“So is that where we’re going now?” I shiver violently as a gust of air hits us.
“Might as well,” she says, and we make our way back to her hotel room and grab our things. The whole way to the airport I’m googling interesting things to do in the midwest.
